


Forgiving You

by Wolfheart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Family, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season 7 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfheart/pseuds/Wolfheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just like everything else in Dean's life. Even when it comes to forgiving Cas, the reasons why Dean does anything at all is because of Sam.</p>
<p>Dean/Sam (brotherly), Dean/Cas (friendship), Sam/Cas (friendship/pre-slash).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiving You

**Author's Note:**

> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hfa3j4ZZUMI  
> Start at 40:45  
> End at 43:27
> 
> During one of the JIBCon panels, Jensen explains how he doesn't understand how Dean would have Cas's trench coat all nicely folded in the back of some stolen car that's not even the Impala. After hearing that, it gave me an idea. I was like, "Wait, no. Jensen's right. Dean wouldn't have done that....Saaaammm. e u e"
> 
> Thus, this story was born.
> 
> Dean might have given Castiel the trench coat, but it was Sam who left it there. ;)
> 
> This takes place in season 7 and the italics dialogue comes directly from "The Born-Again Identity" (7x17). If you haven't seen it yet, SPOILERS.
> 
> Enjoy! XD

Dean hated that damn trench coat. Not just seeing it but even knowing that it was _there_ in their possession made him nauseous. He wanted it gone for good. He didn’t want to have to see it. He didn’t want to know it was there. He didn’t want to be reminded of Castiel, the best friend who destroyed his brother’s touch on reality. He didn’t want to be reminded of the best friend he lost. The trench coat was only causing him to actively think about it. Every time he saw it, his heart would clench and stomach twist. He didn’t need to be reminded of this tragedy. It was unsurprising when he scooped up the filthy trench coat and carried it to the dumpster during one of their gas station stops. Dean had been determined to rid himself of the reminder for good, forever.  
  
It had been Sam who stopped him. Sam was half hysterical when he raced towards Dean after he realized what was happening. He snatched up the clothing article before it could descend into the bottom of the trash bin. There had been an edge of panic rising in his voice when Sam questioned, “What are you doing?”  
  
“Cleaning out the truck,” Dean grumbled as if it were obvious. “There’s not enough room in this rickety piece of scrap metal we picked up.”  
  
That hadn’t been all true, and they both knew it. The trench coat didn’t exactly take up a lot of room. It was clear to them both that Dean wanted it gone. It was even clearer though that Sam did not. “Dean,” He paused for a moment, almost as if he wasn’t sure of his own word choice, “It’s not that big of a deal.”  
  
Sam hadn’t really known what to say, but Dean understood the meaning behind his words anyway. The man tensed. “He’s gone, Sam,” Dean bitterly stated. “He’s not coming back, and I’m tired of looking at the damn thing.”  
  
“I’m not.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Sam’s head was tilted down as he gingerly moved the trench coat over with his hands. A frown was shown on his face as his hazel eyes drooped in sadness.  Quietly, Sam hummed, “I’m not--...not tired of looking at it.” He sighed. “Please, Dean? Can you just leave it there?”  
  
Dean’s lips pressed into a flat line as he looked his brother over. They had always taken grief differently. Sam liked to hold onto the material of the former, deceased owners for the memory. It was the keepsakes that brought some comfort to the tragedy at hand. For Dean, it was the opposite. To be able to find peace within himself, he needed to be able to bury the memories as far back in his mind as humanly possible. He didn’t want a reminder. He didn’t want a keepsake. If someone he cared about was gone, he wanted them to be as _far gone_ as they possibly could be.  
  
That had been that though. Dean had given an exasperated sigh and pushed passed his brother to go get a snack inside the gas station. The trench coat remained with them. When Dean had declared Castiel’s demise and nonexistence, he hadn’t been telling the whole truth. A part of him, somewhere, deep down held onto the hope that Castiel might return somehow and against all odds. Yet, that was the exact reason why Dean half wanted to douse the coat in gasoline and set it aflame. If Castiel returned, then what? This was the man who betrayed them both, even after Dean desperately tried to steer him back on the path. This was the man who Dean had considered to be part of his family. This was also the man who destroyed Sam’s safety net and caused him to actively see Lucifer on a regular basis. What would happen if Sam didn’t get better? What would happen if Sam got _worse_? How was Dean supposed to feel if Castiel was to show up then?  
  
Neither of them brought up Castiel again after that. Although Dean never commented on it, he took notice how Sam would move the trench coat from stolen car to stolen car. No matter where they were at, that trench coat was always with them in the trunk of whatever vehicle they picked up. That hadn’t been what caught his attention the most though. Every time Dean opened the trunk to either get out or put in supplies and ammunition, the trench coat would be in there and would be _neatly folded._  Any other time, Dean might have laughed at the gesture. He didn't though. The grief was still too much, and this new detail left Dean at a loss of words. He left it be. Somehow, this awakened knowledge was just as much comforting as it was confusing. It wasn’t just there in their possession. No, it was being looked after too.  
  
The Winchester bad luck caught hold of them before too long. Sam’s hallucinations progressively became worse. One day, Dean woke up to find that his brother had been rushed to a hospital. The story that the pedestrians had told him had been true. Sam ran out in the middle of on going traffic, practically throwing himself in front of a moving vehicle. Although Sam had been physically fine--thank God; Dean wasn’t sure what he would have done if Sam was in critical condition--the doctors informed him that Sam had been emitted into the _psychiatric ward._  
  
Everything was going downhill. Sam was getting worse, not better. It was even worse having to see Sam like this. Sam had always been the fighter, the determined one, the snot-nosed rebellious kid who’d never roll over and just take a beating. Even his strong-willed, younger brother had his limits, and Dean wasn’t sure he was prepared to see that. It was always Sam who would remind Dean that he had a reason to fight when Dean had lost all hope. Time and time again, Sam had enough fight in him for the both of them. Yet now, the tables were turned. How was he supposed to convince Sam to keep going? How could he when it was always Sam who held all the reasons why?  
  
 _“Dean, we knew this was coming.”_  
  
This can’t be happening.  
  
 _“No.”  
  
“When you put my soul back....”_  
  
Dean would never be sorry for that, and yet he’d never stop feeling guilty over it. He couldn’t live without Sam. As long as Sam was alive, it was enough. That’s what Sam was capable of reminding him of every single time Dean was on the verge of giving up. With the tables turned, could Dean be enough? How would he be able to convince Sam to keep fighting? It was like staring at a mirror, and Dean couldn’t remember being more terrified in his entire life.  
  
 _“No.”_  
  
Sam can’t be like him. He just can’t be.  
  
In that moment, Dean almost wanted to be sorry for ever bringing Sam back from the dead, for ever stuffing his soul back inside his body. Almost. This was all on him. All of Sam’s agony was on _Dean_. It was his fault.  
  
 _“...Cas warned you about all the crap it would--.”_  
  
It all hit Dean like a punch. The guilt he was already placing on himself being placed on him again, and _Castiel_ \--the best friend who was like a brother to him. The man who had turned against them both in the end. The man who had sentence Sam to become _this!_ It was all just too much. He couldn’t control lashing out now.  
  
 _“Screw Cas! Quit being Dalai frickin' Yoda about this, okay?”_  
  
Dean couldn’t take it anymore. All this grief, terror, _anger_. It was too much. This couldn’t be happening. He was losing _everything_ all over again, and--.  
  
 _“...I’m too tired.”_  
  
\--there was nothing Dean could do to stop it.  
  
Naturally, that had been the time Castiel decided to make his grand reappearance. He was alive. He had no memory of Dean or Sam, but he was real, breathing, walking, talking-- _alive_. The moment Dean saw him, his breath caught in his throat. Everything was so twisted around and _complicated_. He wasn’t sure what to do anymore. This was _Cas_ , his best friend. He was the one who sent Sam into a turmoil and was the only one who appeared to be able to help Dean save Sam all at the same time. Dean wasn’t sure what was harder. Seeing Castiel alive and well without memories or having to be around him once everything came back to him.  
  
 _“What I did. What I became. Why didn't you tell me?”  
  
“Because Sam is dying in there.”_  
  
Cas could have said no. If Dean would have spilled out everything, Castiel could have turned his back and refused. Who knows! Anything! Dean had panicked when he saw him. What was he supposed to say to the guy who didn’t remember anything--the good or the bad? Dean just needed Sam to be okay. He couldn’t take that kind of risk. Yet, here they were anyway. Castiel and Dean. All the memories there between them. All the hardships lingering. Dean desperately needing the help, and Cas desperately needing to get away.  
  
 _“Because of me. Everything. All these people. I shouldn't be here.”_  
  
That was it. That was everything. It was the _truth_. This was happening because of Castiel. For months, Dean had been putting the blame on Cas. Every time he was reminded of Sam’s hallucinations, his thoughts went directly to Cas. Every time he saw the trench coat in the back of the trunk, his stomach would twist in knots with grief and utter pain.  
  
Yet.  
  
Somehow.  
  
Not a flicker of anger passed through Dean then. He wasn’t rageful. He wasn’t vengeful. He wasn’t angry. Any other time before, Dean would have let him have it. In theory, he would have lashed out, spat venom, and beat him down into a bloody pulp. Yet, theory wasn’t reality. No, it was far from that. As Dean watched Castiel turn away with remorse in his eyes, Dean couldn’t follow behind him quick enough with a heavy heart.  
  
 _“Cas. Cas!”_  
  
Castiel was sorry. Dean knew he was. The pain was written clear as day on his face. That look awakened a memory in the back of Dean’s mind. That had been the same look Sam had given him when they reunited after they split up when Lucifer was resurrected. Dean had been angry then too. He had been _furious_ with Sam, just as he had been furious with Castiel. Yet, there had come a point then when everything settled. Everything had fallen back into place. Sam had known what he’d done. He was sorry for it. Dean’s eyes had been opened then too. He had been given the time he needed to be angry, and only then had he been ready to forgive. This moment here and now with Castiel was no different. It was still painful. The feeling was still _raw_ , but the initial grudge was gone. They were _getting there._  
  
 _“If you remember, then you know you did the best you could at the time.”_  
  
Dean still couldn’t forgive him just yet, but he sure as hell wanted to. It would have been so much easier if he could. What he was capable of doing though was to give Cas the benefit of the doubt. He wasn’t capable of forgiveness, but he was able to understand.  
  
 _“Don't defend me. Do you have any idea the death toll in Heaven? On Earth? ….We didn't part friends, Dean.”  
  
“So what?”  
  
“I deserved to die. Now, I can't possibly fix it... So why did I even walk out of that river?”  
  
“Maybe to fix it.”_  
  
That’s what Sam had done. That’s what Sam needed to do. Now, Castiel needed to do this as well. Dean _needed_ Cas to be able to do this. If Castiel couldn’t fix this, Dean wasn’t sure what he’d do. The feeling would be too much for words, and he didn’t need to think about that right now. He _wanted_ to befriend Castiel again, but how could he if this couldn’t be fixed? What would happen if this was beyond the point of return? The thought didn’t pass through his mind for long though. Something clicked in his brain then.  
  
 _“Wait.”_  
  
The trench coat. It was still in the back of their stolen car that was only a few feet away from them now. The keepsake was just how _Sam_ had left it. It was neatly folded and well taken care of. Dean never would have kept it, much less looked after it. Maybe in the end, _that_ was the reason why Dean would be okay if Sam survived this. Just like most everything else, maybe it would be because of Sam. Even after the Hell wall was broken and even after their lives had been threatened, Sam didn’t give up on Castiel. This wasn’t just the man who had betrayed them and practically sent Sam to his death, no.  
  
This was also the man Sam forgave.  
  
The friend Sam wanted to keep in his memories.  
  
The angel Sam missed.  
  
Dean could be okay with this situation because _Sam_ was okay with this. He could allow Castiel back into his life because Sam wanted him back. All of this rested on Sam. When that bridge was burned, Sam had rebuilt it for the both of them. Sam cared about Castiel and vise vera. Even after everything that had happened, Sam still cared and had been willing to try to reach out to him. He had believed in Cas even when Dean wouldn’t. He cared about Cas even when Dean _couldn’t._  
  
The bond between Castiel and Sam had never been brought to Dean’s attention until now. As he watched the angel sit down on Sam’s hospital bed, Dean had never seen so much pain on Castiel’s face. There was something intense about the way Cas’s blue eyes gazed upon the younger hunter. Mixed in with agony and guilt, there was something intimate and almost... _loving_ about the way Castiel apologized. There was a deep level of fondness beneath Cas’s scratchy voice that was torn and mutilated with anguish. If it had ever been there before, Dean hadn’t noticed it until now.  
  
 _“...I'm sorry I ever did this to you.”_  
  
Something inside Dean had settled then. That had been the moment. It was this moment here before Castiel stole away Sam’s inner turmoil in a self-sacrificing act. That had been the moment that Dean finally, wholeheartedly forgave Cas.


End file.
